Eight for One
by Jelsemium
Summary: Charlie's in a car accident the night before Hanukkah begins.


Eight for One

For the 15 Minute Challenge: Hanukkah

Word Count: 743 + 45

Time: 38 Minutes

Edit time: 20 Minutes to add more details about Hanukkah and lighting the candles. I skimmed over the details due to time constraints.

* * *

The 110 freeway doesn't end, it fades away into the Arroyo Parkway, a winding, scenic route. During the day, it was a lovely, even serene drive. 

On a rainy night, however, it was a slippery slope. All too easy for a driver, startled by an animal darting across the road, to wake up face first into his deployed airbag.

Fortunately, Charlie always had writing utensils handy, so he was able to punch a hole into the airbag and deflate it.

That was the last thing that went well. He couldn't get his door to work… or maybe it was his arm that wouldn't work. Charlie scrunched his eyes closed and tried to think.

"Cell phone!" he said triumphantly. He managed to fumble the thing out of his pocket and pushed the power button.

The familiar power up/ power down chimes filled the car. Followed immediately by the chime again.

What? Had he pushed the button twice? Worse, was the battery dead? Oh, please don't let this battery be dead…

Charlie pushed the power on button again, then quickly punched in 9-1-1 and held the phone up to his ear.

"Please, please, please, don't be dead…"

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I, um, my car, I crashed," Charlie managed.

"Sir? Can you tell me where you are?"

Where was he? Charlie was having a hard time determining which way was up, but he thought he remembered where he had been just driving.

"Arroyo Parkway, just past the 110."

Things became blurry, and Charlie had a hard time focusing on the 911 operator's voice.

BOO-BEEP BOO-BEEP

No! His phone couldn't die on him now!

Charlie pried his eyes open and saw red and blue lights. Oh, thank heavens. The sound hadn't been his phone dying but the police arriving.

"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?" a CHP officer appeared at his window.

"Um, yeah," Charlie managed.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Char lee," Charlie felt like his head was stuffed with cotton, but he could remember that much.

"Hi, Charlie, is there anybody else in the car with you?" a flashlight probed the car, but Charlie knew the answer to this, also.

"Nah, nah, 'm' 'lone."

The patrolman spoke calmly, but with authority. "Not to worry, son, you're not alone now."

Charlie relaxed with a sigh.

* * *

The next day, Charlie was sighing again, this time with exasperation rather than relief. 

His father and brother kept fussing over him, in spite of his assurances (and the doctor's assurances) that he was all right.

Larry had fussed until he'd been distracted by Megan.

Amita had fussed, but that was okay by Charlie. Unfortunately, Amita had left to take care of some family business.

He was now ensconced comfortably on the couch, forbidden to help with even the smallest task relating to Hanukkah. It was late afternoon, soon the sun would set and Hanukkah would begin.

Since it was the first night of Hanukkah, Alan was explaining the history of the Menorah to Liz and Megan. "The candle should be lit at sunset, except on Friday, when it needs to be lit before. However, you can wait until the entire family is home before you lit the first candle.

"May I light the candle?" Liz asked. "Or is that for family only?"

"Yes, you may light the first candle," Alan said good naturedly, handing the matches over to her.

Liz had volunteered, Charlie realized, so it wouldn't be obvious that Alan's hands were shaking. Charlie felt a surge of shame for being so ill-tempered when his family had been so scared.

"There are three prayers to say before the lighting," Alan continued. "When I finish with them, you light the Shamash, that's the helper candle." He indicated the candle standing tall in the center of the Menorah. "Then you use the Shamash to light the first candle."

"Is Amita coming to dinner tonight?" Don asked.

"Um, I don't know," Charlie said. "I expect so."

"What's her number?" Don asked. "I'll ask her if she wants to be here for the Menorah lighting."

"Um," Charlie's head hurt and he couldn't come up with Amita's number.

"Never mind," Don said. "Bet it's number one on your speed dial, yeah?" He punched the power button on Charlie's cell phone.

The opening chimes sounded, followed immediately by the power down chimes.

"Well, geez, Chuck!" Don said with asperity. "You should keep your phone charged up. What if it had died on you when you were trapped?"

"Amita's phone should be next to the phone in the kitchen," Alan said.

"Right," Don tossed the cell phone onto the end table next to Charlie and headed to the kitchen.

Charlie stared at the phone. It had been dead. Yet it had worked until help had arrived. He looked over to the Menorah. _One_ day's worth of oil, yet the lamp had remained burning for _eight_ days until help had arrived.

He shifted his bandaged arm and gasped involuntarily.

"Charlie? Is something wrong?"

Charlie remembered what the cop had said. He shook his head. "Um, no, Dad, I was just thinking."

"Really?" Alan said. "That's so unusual."

Liz laughed.

"So, Charlie, gelt for your thoughts?" Alan held up a chocolate coin wrapped in gold foil.

Charlie grinned. "Sure, I was just thinking that, in times like this, it's good to not be alone."


End file.
